Open Wide

Today I went to the dentist. After a week of agony, double-dose antibiotics and liver-shredding painkillers, the dentist deemed the site (a technical term?) was fit for excavation. Filled with trepidation that my mouth was going to become the next venue for The Time Team, I set off for the surgery...

So, now it's over and I'm writing this while dribbling and drooling and looking like a lop-sided hamster - but at last the damn abscesses are no more!!!! However, I do have a feeling that the dentist's parting shot of "... and you may find it'll be a little sore for a while..." was one massive understatement. The anaesthetic is just starting to wear off and my gums are throbbing and drumming like Phil Collins on acid and the pain is crunching from beneath my chin (chins) into the top of my head.

The problem was that the abscessi were rooted (hah! pun!) in the roots of ancient teeth beneath even more ancient bridgework. So the excavation involved a lot of sawing and cranking and breaking and yanking. I had to wear welder's goggles and bits of tooth and bridge shot round the surgery like shrapnel. Still, apart from the noise and the smell and the taste of blood I didn't feel a thing. Until now...

The gums - once the offending roots had been removed (there was a not very amusing moment when the dentist cheerfully told me that one of them was a "wriggly little devil and keeps popping back into the cavity..." - far too much information there, thanks) - needed stitches. And then there was this smell of burning. I thought one of the dental nurses was having a crafty fag - but no. It was the sealant. This was a bit scary as I had visions of being gummed (another pun!) up like a double glazed window. However the dentist assured me that it was necessary to seal the site to prevent any food debris getting into the crevasse. Huh - food debris? Food? Eating? Was he mad??? The way my mouth felt I knew I'd never eat again...

So, I'm back home and I feel like sh - well, pretty awful actually. So, I'm going to try and ignore the elephants dancing a samba inside my skull, and the red-hot pincers gripping my mouth, and the fact that my ears and eyes have come out in sympathy, and do the only thing left for me to do.

Sod writing and housework and barmaiding - I'm off to bed with a shot of whisky and the cats and will emerge again once all this hell is over - but don't hold your breath...